The Boy With the Bread II
by multifandommaneuvergear
Summary: "When a guy gives you bread, you're stuck with him. Fated to share forever. Grow gray hairs together. The giving of the bread symbolizes a start of a bond hat could never be severed-"  - Peeta Mellark to his daughter who was yes.. given bread by a MALE.
1. Chapter 1

**The Boy with the Bread II**

Peeta was savoring the unusual peace and quiet as his hands scrubbed baking supplies at the kitchen sink. He would enjoy this simple bliss for only a couple more moments because in three.. two.. one..

He heard the front door creak open, and slam heavily. Groaning and foot stomping followed it. Then a loud thump and a flop on the couch. Then incomprehensible groans and screams. Peeta sighed, and wiped his hand with a rag. He walked warily to the living room, and the sight of his fourteen-year-old daughter lying flat on her stomach on the couch, still wearing her school uniform, face buried on a pillow and screaming banished all the tiredness. His lips subconsciously smiled.

He knelt against the couch and started gently stroking his daughter's ebony hair. She didn't respond. She didn't even move, except for the rising and falling of her chest.

"Rose, don't suffocate yourself," Peet said teasingly. "Sit properly and we'll talk about it."

No response.

"Did I mention cheesecake was involved?"

Rose's head immediately tilted up, and she turned to face Peeta with a glint in her blue eyes. They always seem to catch Peeta off guard and surprise, making him question if his eyes really looked like that. "Okay," Rose replied, looking like a weight has been lifted from her.

She sat down hugging the pillow against her chest as Peeta sat beside her.

"So tell me what happened."

"Well, there's this boy at school-"

"Boy?" Peeta almost choked. He was definitely not expecting this. Rose was a lot like Katniss, independent, tough and definitely didn't spend time fussing about boys at fourteen. But times have changed. His children didn't have to worry about having a family to feed, not that he was complaining. They have more time to worry about looks and music and the opposite sex nowadays. How times have changed since his name was reaped for the 74th Hunger Games.

Besides, Rose was too young.

"It's not what you think, Dad," Rose rolled her eyes sighed. Then she thought for moment. "Maybe. I don't know, it's confusing."

Peeta shook his head for a moment and grinned. It was fun to tease Rose when she gets all flustered.

…

Rose had already spent forty minutes of the one hour lunch break kicking stones at the school ground. She had no more money left for lunch, because he lost to his brother to a bet – an unwise move on her part. He couldn't ask him for money, since he was at class. He couldn't ask anyone for money, because she didn't exactly have friends good enough to lend you half of their daily allowance. She had a piece of bread in her back pack, but when she brought it out, someone accidentally bumped into her, the impact making her drop it. Conveniently, she was in front of a trashcan, and she didn't feel like dumpster diving for an already bacteria infested loaf of bread. The one who bumped her was in such hurry, she just turned around and muttered sorry hastily, and took off. She was hungry.

The odds were _not_ in her favor. Really? What were the odds of losing every possible way of having lunch that day?

"Rose,"

Rose heard a deep voice mutter her name. She had never heard this voice before, but the way her name was said made her shiver. Before she could kick the rock again, she turned around. "Uhmm.." was the sound the came out her lips as it slightly opened in shock. She felt heat rising up to her cheeks. It was the person she least expected. It was Clarence Grayson.

In broader detail, he was hailed the most beautiful male that walked the face of District 12. He was the one who stirred the dream of every female within his age range. He was the person the guys at school idolized, and could only dream to be just like him.

Bronze hair. Green eyes. A face that seemed to carved from marble by a master artist. He was beautiful.

Rose had never paid much attention to her. It was pointless, and she didn't want to be in line with all the other girls. It was ridiculous to even think of. She doubts he knows her name despite sharing class sometimes. And whenever he was with his pose, the rest of the world seemed non-existent to him anymore.

And there he was, holding out slices of raisin bread to her. He even said her name in a chilling, magnetic way. Impossible.

Still.. there is a possibility he knew of her existence. He does throw a glance at her once in a while, but just eyes their eyes meet, he averts his. His face would sometimes turn into a shade of baby pink.

"I haven't seen you eating," he started speaking nervously. "I was thinking, since I'm already full, you could have this." Rose stared at the pieces of bread. They looked good. He knew where he bought it, at her father's bakery.

"I know it's not much," Clarence broke the silence of her lack of response. "But at least there's something to digest. I don't have any money for-"

"Thanks," Rose blurted out. She took the loaves in her hands. "I appreciate it."

Clarence smiled, and she realized what the other girls found so great about him. But, she also found something new, a memory and a reason for her to cherish.

The next few days, they ate together during lunch. It was awkward and filled with so mostly silence at first. But eventually, a topic was brought up that lead to a conversation in which an hour is not sufficient. Eventually, they sat together at the classes they had together. She learned to like the coal classes. After about a month and a half, there came occasions when he had the gentlemanly urge to walk her home.

She would punch him and say it was cheesy and she wasn't a baby who needed it.

More months passed with the same routine.

Until one day came. Clarence and Rose stopped at the gate of her house. They both just gathered the breath they just lost from laughing. They just smiled into each other's eyes, until he reached for her wrist and grabbed it tightly. Rose didn't know what to make of this. Before she knew it he was leaning in. She felt like fainting. The color on her face drained, and so did the usual aura of toughness about her. Her protective fortress was crumbling.

Then she felt a spark of electricity from her cheek. She touched were Clarence' lips had touched. He had kissed her on her cheek.

"Uhmm, see you tomorrow," Clarence muttered almost inaudibly, refusing to meet Rose's eyes, and took off.

The next day, when had their first class together, they were seats apart. At lunch, she found her with his friends, talking and laughing. When classes were dismissed, he was nowhere to be found. She had to admit, her heart sank. But it was useless to dwell on heartbreak. It was shallow. At this age, her parents had been struggling to keep themselves alive with rats and stale bread.

She went home and started a fit of screaming against a pillow.

…

Peeta couldn't help but smile ever since Rose mentioned the raisin bread. When Rose finished her story, he managed a hearty chuckle. Rose glared at him. "Not funny."

"Sorry, honey," Peeta tried to compose himself, but slight chuckles still escaped his mouth despite the effort of zipping them. "But you know what, Primrose Rue Mellark?"

"What?" Rose replied warily.

"When a guy gives you bread, you're stuck with him. Fated to share forever. Grow gray hairs together. The giving of the bread symbolizes a start of a bond hat could never be severed-"

"DAD!" Rose screamed. She looked panicked. "Are you SERIOUS?"

Peeta laughed boisterously now. "Maybe not for everyone, but that's how it started for me and you mother."

**The End.**

_So what do you think?_

_REVIEW, PLEASE _

_Love,_

_Legendaryhuntress._

_Stand, Bow, Bye!_


	2. More Bread

**More Bread**

_A/N: So, it was mentioned that Katniss and Peeta had two kids, right? The girl came first, then the boy. So here's the boy, at age 12, who comes across the promise of the bread at an early age._

The fact that someone liked his sister enough to be willing to let his lips touch her cheek was very unimaginable to young Finnick Gale Mellark, age twelve. And that _someone_happened to be Clarence Grayson! He was a model student, an athlete, and a lot of girls at his grade fantasized him. He could see some of his seatmates doodle Clarence's name on pieces of paper. When he passes hallways, he could hear whispers from the girls about how _'__Clarence__looked__at__me__' _and '_we__were__like,__three__feet__away__from__each__other__'__._

Even the girl he likes seemed to turn into a bright shade of pink when the almighty Clarence Grayson passes by. And _he_ likes Rose. Go figure.

How _does_ he know this? Simple. He was eavesdropping on the conversation Rose had with his father. When he heard the new meaning bread symbolized, an idea triggered from the back of his mind.

Now, here he was, staring disoriented at the array of kitchen utensils and baking supplies, scratching his head. Of course, he had a lot of baking experience from growing up in a bakery. But he had to make something more spectacular than his last spectacular creation to suit the needs of his plan.

After an hour, he finished making a simple-looking cake on the outside, but the inside bursts with ingredients you'd never have put together, and never would have thought would taste good together, but they all intermingled in the spongy housing of the cake, designed to dance on your tongue with the first taste. This cake is hard to make. The ingredients were rare berries and herbs, hard to gather. But if you had Katniss Everdeen as your mom, you had easy access to the rarest woodland finds.

But there was something wrong with it. Sure enough, it tasted good. No, not good. It's the best thing you will ever taste in your entire life. But it was too _square._

He sighed.

He thought of the girl he liked. She was pretty. Friendly. Popular, but not mean. She was tough when needed. She once had beaten him in arm wrestling. She wasn't a big fan of the whole Capitol fashion. She was _simple_. Nick wasn't sure if a gigantic cake with so much décor that you could hardly realize it was a cake would please her. So he crossed that out of his list of ideas.

He looked back at the cake. It was still square. It didn't really look attractive. It looked like a giant sponge. It was a few levels below simple.

Then a brilliant idea struck him.

He scoured the kitchen cabinets for the other baking supplies, buried under so many other supplies because they were rarely used. He started working his magic.

…

Nick stared at the cake. It was now heart shaped, with pink icing. Red candies lined the edge. It was simple enough. Not too flamboyant. She'd realize it was cake. She'd _want_ to eat it. He dusted of the flour accumulated on his hands, and sighed. He beamed at himself. He cleaned the kitchen supplies but left the cake on the dining table. He went to the bathroom and started cleaning himself off.

…

Now freshly dressed and feeling good, Nick whistled a happy tune as he stepped out of the bathroom. But as soon as he entered the dining room, he felt like whistling someone's funeral song. Particularly Haymitch Abernathy's.

He found the old man, leisurely finishing of the last traces of the cake, his fork dancing on its container. Nick had his mouth open the entire time, and he had no intention of closing it. Haymitch just smiled at him. "Nice cake, kiddo. Did _you_ make it?"

"THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FOR YSABEL!" Nick exploded. He could hardly contain himself anymore. "Haymitch, I worked so hard on that! Plus, the berries are hard to find! My mom wouldn't be able to collect some until next week!"

Haymitch sighed, and looked at Nick as if he were the biggest annoyance in the world. Nick mirrored the expression. "Then make one again next week, Bread Head."

Nick suddenly became interested on the floor. His eyes were planted on it, and refused to look at Haymitch. "She's leaving for District 4 tonight." Haymitch noticed true sadness in his eyes, and became ashamed to be holding the fork.

Nick pulled up a chair tucked under the table and sat on it. He was face to face with Haymitch. He rested his elbows on the table and buried his face. He held back a scream. The older man awkwardly patted him on his back. "That's what you get for trying to tell her too late."

"I guess I just have to make something simpler," Nick muttered. "Better than _nothing_."

….

Nick nervously knocked at the front door of the McLean residence. He heard the hustle and bustle around the household. They were obviously not done packing. When Ysabel opened the door, Nick felt like running away, screaming, and drowning himself. She was beautiful, like some sort of goddess of beauty. He regretted not telling her sooner that he liked her. She could easily find a lover at District 4. Probably a guy with really toned muscles from all the swimming and hauling in fish nets.

He also felt stupid for coming to her house at night, carrying a piece of bread with a message written in icing. But before he lost his courage, he shoved the bread her. "Bye, Ysabel." After that, he didn't meet her eyes and darted off. He heard her calling out his name, but he was too embarrassed to go back after she read the message on the bread. He knew one day he'd regret not going back to talk to her, but he remembered what his father said.

_"'__When__a__guy__gives__you__bread,__you're__stuck__with__him.__Fated__to__share__forever.__Grow__gray__hairs__together.__The__giving__of__the__bread__symbolizes__a__start__of__a__bond__hat__could__never__be__severed.__'"_

He also thought about the message written in intricate handwriting that could only me mastered by years of decorating cakes. _"__I__like__you,__Ysabel.__I__hope__you__don__'__t__forget__me.__"_

Suddenly, he was happy. He was filled with renewed hope that maybe one day…

…

Seven years later, Nick was working that time at the family bakery. It had grown so much over the years. They made and discovered so many types of breads and pastries over the years. Nick still loved making cakes, especially ones from special orders. He liked them best because each had its own personal message and story. He mad a lot of wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes and more of the sort. But he would never forget the bread with the words only a simple-minded twelve-year-old would consider a heart wrenching confession of love. He spent time with other girls, but deep inside his heart, he was still waiting for Ysabel McLean.

The sound of the front door's wind chimes made him look up. A girl entered. She had flowing black hair, Seam grey eyes. She was wearing a simple pear of pants and a green blouse. Her skin was slightly tanned, the kind of tan you'd get from spending a lot of time at the District 4 waters. Nick knew this girl. He liked her since they were five. But she was oblivious, until the last night they saw each other.

Her eyes widened and bore into Nick.

"Nick," she smirked. "The boy with the bread. Nice to see you again."

**The End.**

**I hope you guys liked it. And I also hope you liked the name of the girl – Nick's love interest. It has a special meaning for me. Maybe a few PJO fans would get the last name..**

**Love, **

**Legendaryhuntress.**

**Stand, Bow, Bye!**


End file.
